


one day you'll find you already know

by cirque



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Comfort, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, First Meetings, Natasha Feels, actually quite sweet, major spoilers for AoU tho for real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirque/pseuds/cirque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He takes her home, which is a first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one day you'll find you already know

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to become a problem, isn't it? 
> 
> I have a thing for polar opposite ladies forging a friendship. 
> 
> Yup, definitely a problem. 
> 
> I may expand on this but for now I need crackers and to go see this movie again. In that order.

It's early on in her S.H.I.E.L.D. career, back when she isn't even all that sure if Clint Barton is the sort of guy she can place her trust in. He takes her home, which is a first, to his ramshackle farm with its rustic yearnings and his wife who wears mismatching socks. She gets this look in her eyes when Natasha appears on her porch, and it's a little bit like being adrift.

The place is like nothing Natasha imagined. There is green as far as she could see, and though she tries, she can hear nothing but quiet, settling her. There are animals she has never seen before, and a dog, nose down, picking his way through spilt grain, snuffling as she passes. She is silent. She does not trust nature. 

Natasha still struggles with remembering that English is her first language now, but Laura doesn't care, just opens up her arms and takes Natasha's combat jacket and hangs it up in the corner between two tiny plastic raincoats. Laura guides her around the house like Clint brings home a stray every other week, telling her about the kids, how Lila is talking now, full sentences and all. She makes her real American coffee, the kind you have to stir with a crowbar, and smiles at Natasha's grimace.

Clint laughs like this was his plan all along. He claps her back. "Keep it down kiddo."

She does. It doesn't burn half like vodka.

Clint leaves pretty quickly to pick up their children, and Natasha is left staring at his wife across the table. It's the sort of domesticity that is alien to her, five degrees away from what she is accustomed to, but she sees now that this was what he meant when he said there was something more.

Laura sips her coffee. "So. You're Russian?"

"No," says Natasha, in her pitched Russian accent. Laura winces. "Not any more."

"I see."

"How much has he told you?" Natasha has a sudden urge to discover whether Clint Barton is the kind of man who would lie to her, or to his wife. He had promised to keep her secrets.

Laura shrugs uneasily. "Everything."

Natasha smiles, pleased. "He is a good man."

"A very good man. He looking after you?"

Natasha takes another sip of her gravelly coffee, no easier than the first. "He has been a great help. Though I am not accustomed to the idea."

"Of having a man take care of you?"

Natasha closes her eyes a fraction. "Of anyone."

"Oh honey." Laura's hand snakes across the table and wraps around two of Natasha's fingers. It's an unprecedented action and Natasha is floored, her mind honed to this strange American woman in her strange American kitchen, holding Natasha's hand. It doesn't even hurt.

She is not sure how to react. She wishes desperately for Clint.

Laura lets go. "Please, tell me if I overstep a boundary. Clint told me you were -"

"Dysfunctional?"

"Bruised."

Natasha decides there and then that she loves Clint Barton. _Bruised_.

"I'm not sure where my boundaries are. I never got to decide before."

Laura looks a little wrecked. "Honey. You decide now, no one else."

She had thought it strange when they asked her permission to draw blood. It makes sense now. She flexes her fingers where Laura touched her. It still doesn't hurt.

"The kids will be here soon." Laura grins. "You'll love them." She says it like she and Natasha are old friends. "They're always asking about Clint's work."

"Do they know what he does?" _That he saves lives and takes them too, and manages to make it balance out?_

"They think he works for the government. They're too young to understand anything else."

Natasha has not been around children since she was one herself, and she cannot remember what it was like not to understand. She is suddenly conscious of her raggedy hair, her sprained wrists, her fading black eye and the scab on her lip. It isn't what she wants for Clint Barton's children. She stands, the chair making an uproar as it scrapes backwards.

"I can't be here."

Laura stands too, eye level with Natasha. "What's wrong?"

"Children. I cannot." She glances towards the front door even though she has no way of knowing if the children are there yet. She cannot hear them, or Clint's heavy boots stomping over the dry grass.

"You're not ready to meet them? It's okay. Your choice, remember?"

Natasha remembers a lot of things. A choice is not one of them.

"I'll tell Clint to keep them outside a little while longer."

"You are sure?"

Laura laughs, breathy and relieved. "Are you kidding? He can teach 'em to shoot, they'll love it."

Natasha feels it right in her stomach, like a burn.

Laura places a hand on her shoulder, leans in too close. She doesn't know. There are some things Natasha has yet to confess.

"Mrs Barton -"

"Laura, please. Can you imagine if I was stuck on calling you Agent Romanoff?"

"Laura. I have a history that is not suitable for children. I am not suitable..."

"Hey, if Clint trusts you, I trust you. He has a history too."

Natasha thinks Clint carries himself well enough to hide it; no one would ever guess. He had traded her, secret for secret. She had not been shocked, but she had been surprised, this strange foreign warrior dispensing his darkest thoughts like candies. He had looked into her eyes and told her there was more. He had not looked away until she nodded.

Laura pats her shoulder. This too, does not hurt. Natasha is still surprised.

"Shall we sit back down? Have another coffee?"

Natasha feels her stomach roll in protest at the thought. "Okay," she says, then corrects her accent, "Sure."

Laura laughs again, shakes her head and gathers up their mugs in front of the sink, like there isn't a trained killer standing barefoot in her kitchen, like it's any other day.

**Author's Note:**

> Did we get canon names for Clint's kids? Idk!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [trust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237033) by [truthtakestime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthtakestime/pseuds/truthtakestime)
  * [safe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341196) by [truthtakestime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthtakestime/pseuds/truthtakestime)




End file.
